Sunflowers
by Speary
Summary: He is human now, and can't stand the thought of complicating their lives, so Cas moves out to the country where he can be of use. He plants sunflowers, and thinks of the ones that he left behind. He can miss them, him. He's allowed that. In time, Dean comes to his farm on his way home from a hunt. The sunflowers have bloomed in bright glowing bursts like fire in the fields. Destiel


Castiel's back yard went on for acres and acres. The whole space was a sea of green stalks with bright orange sunflowers swaying in the afternoon sun. He had moved out here after he had lost his grace. Lost is not the word for it. A word like discarded would be more apt. It was necessary. Dean was alive, and Castiel did not miss it. He missed Dean though. He missed the smaller moments. So, now, he stood on his back porch and stared out at the sea of sunflowers that he planted with his own two hands. He was content, maybe.

He heard the telltale crunch of gravel coming from the front of the house and he wondered if yet another traveler had gotten lost. He encountered one or two of them a month. He strolled around the side of the house, raising his hand as he went, letting it brush along the wood slats, letting them anchor him as he went. As he rounded the corner to the front of the house, he saw the comforting familiarity of the Impala. He could not help but to smile at it as it glistened in the hot August sunshine.

Dean got out and raised his hand to shield his eyes against the sun. "Hey, Cas."

"Hey, Dean." He mirrored Dean's tone as he approached, careful not to look too enthusiastic about the visit. Surely this would be business, not pleasure. They had not seen each other in months. Castiel leaving had lead to a lot of silence on Dean's part. He had not fought him, had not questioned him. He had just gone off on a hunt, or so he said. He did not come back until after Castiel had left.

The choice to move to this home seemed like a simple one. He would be close enough to be of service if either Winchester needed him, but not so close as to be a burden to them when they did not. So far they hadn't needed him. Sam had dragged Dean out some months ago for a brief visit. It had gone mostly well. Castiel had replayed moments of it in his head as he worked the fields or while he applied fresh paint to the porch. Dean had expressed how happy he was that Castiel had found purpose and peace out on the farm.

He had also implied that Castiel was better off out here now that he was human. Castiel let him believe that since it seemed to make things easier for him. He knew that his leaving had upset Dean, but he also knew that him staying would be a distraction. He did not want to be troublesome, a mere baby in a trenchcoat, useless. Out here, on the farm, there was purpose and a type of comfort that came from fostering life.

Dean clapped him on the back once he was close enough to do so, thus rocketing Castiel out of his revere. "So, how've you been?" Dean smiled through the question, and Castiel picked up on something that seemed to be just beneath the surface, a type of discomfort, like he wanted to dive into a question, but had to get through formalities first.

"I'm good? What brings you here?" Castiel decided to throw them both over the conversational formalities as much as he could with that question.

"On my way back from a hunt, but I needed to stop and rest. Been driving for a few too many hours." Castiel didn't question it. The bunker was less than an hour away. He was happy enough just to see him. He leaned a little and looked past Dean to his car.

"No Sam?" The view of the empty passenger seat in the Impala already told him his answer.

"Nah, I let him sit this one out." Dean pressed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"You want to come in?" Castiel raised his hand out to the house. "We could have some drinks out on the back porch. You can take a load off."

"Been sitting for awhile, but I'm not one to pass up on a cold drink in August. Whatcha got in the cooler?"

"Beer and some lemonade." They got into the house and wandered into the kitchen. Castiel pulled the door to the fridge open and grabbed a couple of the bottles of beer.

"What kind of beer? This one doesn't have a label." Dean popped the cap anyway and took a pull.

"I brewed it. It's an oatmeal stout." Castiel watched Dean's face for approval.

He smiled past a second pull, and said, "Now, that's goddamn amazing."

Castiel smiled and ducked his head a little. He popped the cap off of his bottle and directed Dean out to the back porch with a hand to his back. "Thanks. I think that the use of honey in the process added something quite nice to it. I still have much to learn though." They got out to the porch and Dean leaned on the railing, his body angled out in a slump behind him.

"Wow, couldn't see your field from the front of the house."

"Yes, they are blooming. It is something to behold." It had taken a great many hours to plant them all. He had turned up the earth, removed the weeds. He had never used a tractor before, so some things took longer than others. There was silence between them for a spell. The low hum of a passing honey bee caught Castiel's attention. He followed its path as it zipped by on its way to the sunflowers. The scent of the earth was rich and heady on the little summer breeze that wafted up to them. He looked at Dean in the sunlight that now dipped low on the horizon. It cast him in golden hues. He was fire and sheaves of grain. He was a desert mirage, too good to be real.

"You happy out here, Cas?" Dean did not look to him as he asked. He just tipped back some more of Castiel's beer.

"I get by." He knew that this was not the best answer that he could give, but the question had caught him by surprise.

Dean looked at him now, concern filled his eyes. "You're not happy then?"

"I'm happy now." Castiel looked back out to the flowers. The gold of their petals as fiery as the sun that now highlighted Dean's features in a blanket of warm light.

"Hmm." Dean didn't seem like he was going to say anything else for a moment, so Castiel turned back to Dean. He was watching him. "Why aren't you happy?"

Castiel didn't respond. He just watched the bees and the flowers. He shrugged in the hopes that this simple movement might buy him an out. He cast a glance at Dean then. "So, you need a place to get your four hours in tonight?"

"Don't change the subject. Talk to me." Dean reached out to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Castiel concentrated on it, the weight of it, the comfort that the barest of contacts with Dean brought to him.

"There is nothing to say. Some days are good; some days are bad. They are all just days. I should not have said anything. You caught me by surprise." Dean's hand stayed on his shoulder. Castiel thought that the sharing would bring an end to the contact.

"Can I help?" The question was not what Castiel had expected. He looked steadily into Dean's eyes to discern his meaning. _What could he possibly do to help?_

"You being here today has been enough. Thank you for visiting." Now Castiel turned away and faced the flowers again.

"Wouldn't have to visit if you had just stayed at the bunker." There was something in the tone, anger, irritation, frustration. Castiel did not want to see the look that accompanied the tone. There was silence again then Dean said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I get why you left. I don't begrudge you your space."

Castiel looked back at this. Dean took another pull from his beer, seemingly polishing it off. "It was never about the space." He did not know why he was offering up any clarification. He wanted it to be easier for all of them, his leaving, but he still felt like honesty might be necessary.

"Why did you leave then?" And there was the real question that he was not ready for. He walked past Dean then and out into the field, his field, watered with his sweat, his field, his escape from uselessness. He could hear Dean following him. He did not stop. He made his way through the tall stalks of sunflowers, taller than he was now. He opened his palms to them and let his hands brush along them as he walked. Dean was breathing along behind him.

He stopped walking once he reached the midpoint of the field. The tall stalks swaying about around him, were calming in their motion. He could feel Dean at his back, waiting. "I don't want to be useless. Here, I thought, I wouldn't be a burden and I could also be of use."

"That doesn't make sense." Dean's voice came from near his ear. He did not turn to it though. "You were never useless." Dean turned him with a hand to his shoulder. There was a time that he could have fought him, but that was long ago, and now Castiel didn't have much fight in him anymore. So, now he was facing him. He refused to look up at him though.

"I have nothing left to offer. I am better off out of the way where you won't end up risking your life to protect me like you did in Coopersville." They hadn't talked about that hunt. Dean hadn't allowed any real conversation on the subject when Castiel had tried. Still, it had been the moment that had decided things for him.

"What the Hell, Cas. Was I supposed to let you get gored while I just stood off to the side twiddling my thumbs? Hell no! You'd have done the same thing." Dean stooped down a little, trying to force eye contact.

"You shouldn't have to put yourself at risk because I do not have my grace. It is better this way. You hunt; I grow flowers for the bees. The world is benefitting from both of us." Castiel raised his eyes to him now.

"It was better before." Dean spoke quietly now. The anger from before a far off echo in the fields. "I've been off my game ever since you left. Almost got taken out by a ghost just yesterday."

"I'm sure that I had nothing to do with that. My being there would likely have changed the word almost to something a bit more actual. I have literally nothing to do with your safety anymore."

"You have everything to do with it. I worry about you. When you were around, I didn't have to wonder or worry, because you were right there. Now, it's all I think about. It is damn distracting."

"I'm fine, Dean. Nothing happens here. I just plant flowers and tend to bees. There is literally nothing that can get to me here beyond a profound loneliness." Castiel saw how his words seemed to make Dean flinch. He hadn't meant to admit to his loneliness. "I'm fine." He tried to impart a casual tone to the words.

"Come home, Cas." The words were quiet and accompanied by Dean's hands finding his. It was awkward at first, having both of his hands held by Dean. At the same time, though, he felt like it was all tied up with what he had been missing since he lost his grace. When he had it, he had felt like they were alway in contact. It was deeper than a touch and yet it was also the thing that heightened the feelings that came with a touch. Holding his hands was a reminder of the connection, the bond that they use to have and in many ways still had. He could not look away from him. His face just a breath away from his own. Dean said it again, "Come home, Cas."

"Why?" It was all he could muster.

"You know why." Dean dipped his head down a little and took a small step forward.

"Why?" Castiel squeezed his hands as he asked the question.

"I need you there, Cas." Dean looked off over the sunflowers and then back at Cas. "I need you." This second utterance was different from the first. It was lower and filled with worry. There was a longing in the words that Castiel had only ever heard in prayers. It was easy enough to write them off before as just uncontrollable thoughts. This, though, this was more. Dean had given his thoughts words and had presented them as a gift. He had said that he had needed Cas before, but it was different, born out of desperation and a beating that would have ended his life. This was spoken out of affection.

As he stared at him though, he remembered why he had left and how much better off Dean surely must be. "What could you possibly need me for? I have nothing. I am nothing." He would have said more, but Dean leaned into him. Their lips met in a quiet inhale. Dean's hands left his and wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. He closed his eyes and lived in the moment. The rustle of the leaves on the sunflower stalks surrounded them as a breeze rolled through the rows. Castiel had not moved his arms during the kiss. He had left them hanging at his sides. Now, though he craved more contact, the feel of flesh beneath his fingers. He ran his hands up Dean's chest to his neck and into his hair. Dean's lips parted for him and he sent out his tongue in a sweep past lips and teeth.

Dean broke from the kiss briefly to say, "Never think that you are nothing. You are everything." Castiel pulled him back to him again, the delicious taste of desire satisfied with each passing second. He opened his eyes in the midst of it and could see that Dean's eyes were closed. The sun was setting behind them, setting their world on fire. Dean's hair glowed out golden around his tanned face. The slightest of moans came from him as Cas deepened the kiss. The sunflowers waved about around them, and they seemed happy. Dean's eyes opened as they continued to kiss, and he noticed that Castiel's eyes were open too. They smiled into each other as they realized it.

"I guess that I needed you too." Castiel lowered his head to Dean's chest, and Dean let his chin come to a rest on top of Castiel's head.

"So, you'll come home?" Castiel tipped his head back and cupped Dean's cheek in his hand. "Please."

"I have a better idea." Castiel stroked Dean's cheek with his thumb.

"Okay."

"Why don't you stay here for a bit. At least until the sunflowers have stopped blooming. I feel like I owe them that much."

Dean pressed a kiss to his head. "You owe something to flowers?"

"Yes, they reminded me of you. I want to see them through their season."

"I think that I can accept this compromise." Castiel smiled at him and took his hand as they made their way back to the house along the row of sunflowers. The glow of the setting sun lighting their path to home.

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